


Year 7 - The End of a New Beginning

by Casazael



Series: The Dwarf Who Lived [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M, Multi, No Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:48:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29944029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casazael/pseuds/Casazael
Summary: Kíli’s first summer spent entirely in Erebor
Relationships: Fíli/Kíli (Tolkien), Kíli/Thorin Oakenshield
Series: The Dwarf Who Lived [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1680766
Comments: 5
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kíli’s first summer spent entirely in Erebor

“What if I mess it up?” Kíli asked the question for the umpteenth time.

“You won’t,” Fíli said with a still patient smile, something Kíli knew he could not manage if he were the recipient of such repeated questions. “Your Apparition is almost perfect. You managed to hit the target every time.”

“Which is only twice,” muttered Kíli.

“Without losing any body parts of yours,” Fíli said in a slightly raised voice. “That’s all you need really.”

“But things can still go wrong on the third go tomorrow,” Kíli insisted. He knew that he was being a pain in the backside but he could not help it. He was not even sure why he was so nervous. It was not like this would be his last chance. “I just don’t feel that confident. Thorin said that I…”

“Ignore what uncle says these days.” Fíli would not even let Kíli finish his sentence. “You know that ever since his injury, he’s got,” he made a face, “to borrow Gimli’s unflattering yet accurate words, his knickers in a twist. He doesn’t mean half the things he says.”

Slightly relieved, Kíli grinned at Fíli. “Thanks. But I still wish I had more practice to make it more consistent.”

Fíli looked thoughtful. “Hmm, it is a valid point. Do you want to try it again this afternoon?”

Kíli nodded eagerly. “That would be brilliant! But,” he suddenly remembered, “is that allowed? I mean, I practically had an escort team last time I went into Diagon Alley to practice. Who’s going with us this afternoon then?”

The smile on Fíli’s face was almost mysterious. “You’ll see. Now, finish your lunch and we’ll meet in the sitting room at 3, okay?”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was the last week of the summer holidays, which meant that Kíli’s Apparition test had finally come. He had been fretting over it for the past two weeks, mostly because the stringent security measures made Apparition inside Erebor no longer possible. As much as this inconvenienced the resident of Erebor, no one else was as affected by it as Kíli did, who could only practice his Apparition outside of Erebor in the company of some adult wizards, usually Dwalin, if he had time.

Apart from the less than ideal security situation inside Erebor, the summer had been almost perfect for Kíli. Two whole months inside Erebor was simply heaven for Kíli. He could use his magic all the time now, making his life much more convenient. The most delicious food made by Dís had helped him grow, both height and width wise. There were enough activities to help him burn the extra calories, from Quidditch to going down to the mines and vaults to explore. Whenever he was tired, he could always enjoy a relaxing tea in the Erebor library that contained just as many interesting books about Wizarding adventures. The best part, of course, was all the time spent with Fíli and Thorin. 

As much as he loved Erebor, Kíli could not help but feel the onset of cabin fever after the first month cooped up inside. Fortunately, he got to go on two short trips. The first one was to the Muggle orphanage. It felt so strange to be inside the orphanage without Madam McGonagall, who had been such a constant presence of Kíli’s childhood that he almost bolted after merely five minutes there. The only thing that stopped him was Mrs Potter. Her smile, kindness, and unconditional love for the new orphans, which had grown in numbers thanks to Thorin’s financial contribution, finally brought a smile to Kíli’s face. Despite everything, the orphanage was slowly recovering under Mrs Potter from the tragedy that struck last Christmas. 

The second one was to Greenleaf Manor, which took a lot more effort.

“Absolutely not!” Thorin exclaimed, his eyes narrowed when Kíli so much as mentioned the idea. “It’s too dangerous!”

Kíli stared. “Too dangerous? You let me go to the orphanage last week. Isn’t that more dangerous?”

“That, well, that is different. You grew up in the orphanage. Madam McGonagall was killed last year. You are morally obliged to go and visit them. Besides, Dwalin went with you. Greenleaf Manor, on the other hand…”

“Don’t be a prat, Thorin.” Kíli had never been so relieved to see Dwalin before. “Yeh are just cranky because yeh’re stuck inside all day. I’ll go with the lads and drop them off there. What objections do yeh have now?”

Biting his lips sulkily, Thorin threw himself back onto his popped up pillow and buried himself inside his book, refusing to look up or engage in the conversation again.

In the end, Dwalin won. Although Kíli felt slightly guilty about defying Thorin, he was glad to go. The visit itself turned out to be quite interesting, to say the very least.

Just as Kíli had expected, the Greenleaf site of residence was almost unrivalled for its scale by perhaps only Hogwarts. Not even Erebor, which though majestic on its own, had no land surrounding it, could match Legolas’s home. Once the servant, a haughty-looking Elf, let Kíli, Fíli, and Ori inside the front gate, he had to Side-Along Apparate them to the Manor.

“Kíli! Fíli! Ori!” Gimli practically ran to them the moment they appeared in front of the Manor, which was, to Kíli’s astonishment, made entirely of shiny white granite that stood out against the green forest in the background. Every window had stained glass, making the Manor almost cathedral-like with its many high pointy towers. The intricate motifs adorning the walls of the Manor were all in stylised vegetal forms with interlacing designs. If Erebor was the epitome of majestic grandeur, Greenleaf Manor had the elegance and grace that made it look like a sleeping beauty.

Both Legolas and Thranduil were inside the drawing-room to receive them. Kíli was pleased to see that Thranduil looked his usual regal self in dark purple robes made of pure silk. His silvery blonde hair, so much like Legolas’s, cascaded down like a waterfall, not one strand out of place. The only difference was the absence of the smirk on his face, even though he still looked aristocratic enough for a king.

“Welcome, young Kíli, Fíli, and Ori,” said Thranduil. It was amazing how a simple change of tone could make such a big difference to one’s voice, “to my humble abode.”

Kíli could not help but see the irony in it. He was not, however, going to comment on it now that he was friends with Legolas.

“Thank you, sir,” said Fíli deferentially, “for having us here. I apologise for any inconvenience we might have caused.”

Thranduil waved his hand gracefully. “It is no trouble at all. Any friends of my son will be welcome in this house. Now, you must be hun…”

“Kíli Durin!” Tauriel’s laughing voice made them all look up. Standing at the door was Kíli’s old Quidditch captain, looking more stunning than ever. One year of professional Quidditch had not diminished her beauty. Instead, it had enhanced it with her now sun-kissed skin, even more vibrantly red hair, and beautiful lean muscles on her arms from all the Quaffle throwing. Her smile, on the other hand, was the same radiant one that Kíli could never get tired of. “I didn’t know you were coming!”

“Tauriel!” Kíli could feel himself beaming widely at his ex-girlfriend. “You look positively radiant!”

“Sweet as ever I see.” Tauriel laughed. “Be careful with the compliment though. Fíli might get jealous.”

“You jest, Tauriel,” said Fíli with a serene smile. “Kíli’s right. You do look absolutely beautiful.”

With Tauriel and Gimli around, talking almost nonstop, their visit went much smoother than Kíli had anticipated. Thranduil excused himself after half an hour, leaving the friends to themselves.

“Have you read about the trials?” Gimli said in a tantalising whisper the moment Thranduil had left the room. “What a scandal! The Ministry is such a joke if you ask me.”

Gimli was, of course, referring to the disastrous first trial of the captured Death Eaters a month ago. Before that, Kíli and Fíli had had two visits from Ministry officials to interview them about the battle and their involvement in it. Having watched some detective TV shows in the Muggle orphanage, Kíli was fascinated by the memory orbs that the officials used to record their testimonies. This, according to the officials, would save them the trip to the courtroom and speed up the trial process.

Given the publicity of the attack in Hogsmeade, the trial was packed with both the press and the public. Kíli even asked Dís if he could go because he would like nothing more than to see the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange put to justice. Unfortunately, Dís’s answer was a firm no, which turned out to be a wise choice.

The Ministry decided to hold the trial for all the Death Eaters captured. A massive mistake, especially in such a crowded courtroom that was poorly regulated. When an overly zealous journalist jumped to the front of the crowd in an attempt to interview the defendants, all he got was cackling laughter from Bellatrix Lestrange, spit in his face from Rabastan Lestrange, and, worst of all, a bite from Fenrir Greyback, the notoriously sadistic werewolf that particularly enjoyed biting children.

The chaos that followed was wonderfully captured by the Quibbler, a newspaper run by Luna Lovegood’s father. While most considered it alternative at best, totally bonkers at worst, kind of like how Hogwarts students saw Luna, Kíli found the newspaper’s different take on the current day events both refreshing and entertaining. He particularly enjoyed an article about the Minister of Magic, whom the writer firmly believed had both pygmy puff and Holland lop blood, which explained his white and fluffy hair. More importantly, the Quibbler never shied away from any controversial topics. So when Kíli could find no article about the disastrous trial in the Daily Prophet (other than a short line of “Due to security concerns, the trials of Azkaban escapees will be postponed. Each defendant will stand trial on their own at a future unspecified date”), he immediately turned to the Quibbler.

The journalist was, unsurprisingly, rushed off the scene to St Mungo’s. But the damage was done. He would become a werewolf and live a difficult life from now on. The Aurors did their best to contain the hysterical crowd while the guards rushed the prisoners off the courtroom. Everything ended rather prematurely.

“As much as I am astonished by his lack of judgement, I feel for the journalist,” Fíli shook his head and sighed, “Being a werewolf is no easy life.”

“I know,” said Gimli. “Poor sod has already been sacked by the Daily Prophet. He’s gonna have a tough time from now on. On the other hand, what was he thinking? I mean, honestly, who in their right mind would want to interview Fenrir Greyback?!”

Tauriel snorted. “That's the Daily Prophet for you. All they care about is getting a story, kissing the Ministry’s arse and nothing more. But even they can’t cover up the Ministry’s mess any longer. They still haven’t captured Dolohov. It’s been a whole bloody year since Azog’s escape! I really hope that Aragorn can make a difference once he becomes a full-time Auror. The current state is just embarrassing.”

Ori, on the other hand, could not care less about the Ministry. “But what’s the journalist going to do? He’s a werewolf and he’s lost his job! Who’s going to hire him now?”

“I heard that Mister Lovegood has offered him a position on the Quibbler.” Legolas’s words gave Kíli new hope. “It doesn’t pay as well but at least he’s got a job.”

When the servants, all of them Elves, brought them tea, Kíli could fight his curiosity no longer. “So you don’t employ House Elves?”

“Sweet Yavanna, no!” Legolas looked affronted. “Father would never resort to such levels. Whoever created those poor creatures are absolutely despicable, creating a whole new species just to be enslaved like that. Father could never abide by the idea of owning another sentient being as a slave.”

“But those servants,” Kíli asked in a low voice, in case he would accidentally offend anyone even more.

“Are father’s employer and part of the family,” Legolas said firmly. “They are paid wages and have proper benefits just like the Ministry employees. Father actually mentors quite a few of them, like,” he swallowed hard, “Galion. If they want to change jobs, father would help them get into the position they want using his connections. They are most certainly not our slaves.”

From the corner of his eyes, Kíli could see Fíli and Ori fidgeting in their chairs. It does not take a genius to understand why. It was ironic that someone considered aloof, aristocratic, and cold-hearted like Thranduil would have such a progressive view towards House Elves. It almost felt like a slap in the face to the Dwarf families who considered themselves morally superior to Thranduil yet chose to employ House Elves simply because it was convenient and part of the tradition.

“Congratulations by the way,” Legolas smiled at Fíli, “on making Head Boy. I can’t think of anyone else more suitable for the job.”

Fíli’s face turned a lovely shade of pink as everyone else’s eyes fell on him. Legolas laughed. “Sorry, you haven’t told anyone else yet.”

“It’s not official,” Fíli muttered. “It’s only a rumour.”

“Oh, it’s official enough. My father told me that they’ve made their decision, which is unanimous by the way. Even father voted for you. So you can just sit tight and wait for your badge in the mail.”

“Congratulations!” Kíli cried and leaned in to plant a kiss on Fíli’s cheek, turning it into an even darker shade of pink. “I knew you’d make it! Well done!” He then turned to Legolas. “Thanks for the great news! And, er, say thank you to your dad, especially…” his voice trailed off but everyone knew what he meant. For someone as proud as Thranduil to pick someone other than his son, let alone the heir of his old enemy, to be Head Boy was practically unthinkable a mere year ago.

Legolas smiled. “He only did what is right. Fíli is the right one for the job. Everyone without prejudice can see it.”

To reciprocate the favour, Kíli and Fíli invited Legolas to Erebor as well, something that was almost unprecedented. Thorin, to Kíli’s surprise, agreed to it readily.

“It’s only fair, I suppose,” said Thorin, who still spent the majority of the days in bed but much more lively than before. His recovery was, according to Dwalin, slow but steady. “Besides, it’s not like they’re going to go anywhere outside of our home. As long as they don’t go down the mines…”

“Do you think you’ll feel up to it?” Kíli asked, not without concern. Thorin spent about half the day sleeping because he got exhausted easily. He was not sure if the added excitement of Legolas’s visit would overwhelm his Potions Master.

Thorin waved his hands impatiently. “I’ll be fine. I’m injured, not a bloody invalid, for Mahal’s sake.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just…”

“It’s just an informal visit. I’ve been bored out of my mind lately that I’m sure this will make my day less monotonous.” The sideways look made Kíli feel guilty immediately. He should have done more to keep Thorin entertained. “I’ll take a quick nap after lunch and tea. Besides, Dís will be here so she can play host while I’m resting. It’s not the same but she’ll have to do.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, brother,” said Dís as she walked in with a whole tray of potions. “Don’t expect me to let you off the hook though. You still need to drink all your potions.”

Since Thorin’s confinement meant that he could no longer brew any potion and because of his distrust of potions brewed by any other potineer, Fíli was tasked with the job of brewing all the potions that Thorin needed to drink. Overwhelmed with joy by this new responsibility, Fíli threw himself into Potion brewing, so much so that Kíli barely saw him the first week after Thorin was back. As time went on and Fíli became more proficient in his potion-making, even Kili was allowed in the laboratory to help. He was sure this was much more instructive than any N.E.W.T. Potion lessons.

“Always a little ray of sunshine, aren’t you, sister?” Thorin said with a smirk. “Some things never change.”

It’s so nice to see Thorin crack a half-joke, Kíli thought. The mood swings had been the most difficult thing that Kíli had to deal with in Thorin’s recovery journey. Thanks to Lady Galadriel’s warning, Kíli was mentally prepared for that. He would never, however, get mad at Thorin, not after what Thorin had done for him.

“Hmm, the Invigoration Draught is too runny,” said Thorin with a frown the moment he finished drinking. “That’s not up to your standard at all, Fíli. This is only an O.W.L. level potion. How much honeywater did you add?”

“Er,” Fíli hesitated but Kíli could not let Fíli take the blame. “I’m the one who brewed the potion, sir. Fíli was too busy so I thought I’d help.”

“I see.” Thorin pursed his lips but at least he did not comment any further, which Kíli considered a minor success. “Well, I will retire now. Let me know if Balin stops by. Otherwise, leave me alone.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Given Thorin’s less than cheerful attitude in the past two months, Kíli was astonished to find him sitting in a wheelchair at 3 o’clock that afternoon. “But, Thorin?”

“I reckon I’ve been cooped up inside Erebor long enough that a quick outdoor trip would do me no harm,” said Thorin with a small smile. “You don’t mind the company, do you?”

“Not at all!” Kíli said quickly. “I’d love that.”

Thorin’s presence, as it turned out, was very beneficial. His tips on Apparition proved to be much more helpful than Twinkle Twycross’s 3Ds. After three practice Apparitions, one to as far as Hogsmeade, Kíli was feeling much more confident.

“Your Apparition is looking rather satisfactory,” said Thorin, which was practically a glowing review. “I think you’ll do fine in tomorrow’s test. I’ve, er,” he coughed deliberately, “had a word with the examiner. You’ll be the first one to go. I figure that the longer you wait, the more nerve-wracking it will get.”

“Thank you, sir!” Kíli said with a sigh of relief. Thorin certainly knew him well enough. “This is brilliant. If all goes well with my test, I’ll be back in time for Bellatrix’s trial. Not that I can go and see it, of course.” He laughed awkwardly.

Thorin, however, did not chastise him. Instead, he looked thoughtful. “Hmm, it might not be a bad idea for you and Fíli to go and see the trial. I know it might not be a pleasant experience but it is important you understand what true evil looks like.”

Kíli could feel his heart skip a beat. “You're joking! I can’t wait!”

Fíli, on the other hand, was much more level-headed on the matter. “How about security concerns? I thought these trials were closed.”

“To the public, yes,” said Thorin as they headed back to Erebor with Kíli pushing his wheelchair. “The Ministry cannot afford another debacle. But the press needs to be part of the trial so they can report it to the public, in an effort to look more transparent. It is also open to the families of those who have been hurt by the Death Eaters. The Ministry has secured a separate room where the families can see the trial but not interact with anyone in the courtroom. Hopefully, that will provide them with some closure. Besides, all the other Death Eaters have been sentenced and transported to Azkaban already. This makes guarding Bellatrix Lestrange easier.”

“I see,” said Fíli slowly. “But we’re not press. So are we,” he hesitated, “family in this case?”

Thorin looked down at his wheelchair and laughed mirthlessly. “I suppose you are. They have also requested my presence in case they need my testimony. As long as Dwalin is free that day, we can make it happen.”

Balin, who was waiting inside Erebor to discuss Dwarf business with Thorin, was not impressed with the decision. “Are you sure it’s wise, Thorin? Surely it’s taking undue risk to bring them there just to witness the trial.”

“We cannot protect them forever,” said Thorin firmly. “Despite all the preparation, the Battle at Hogsmeade still happened. I’m afraid that will become the norm for the next few years until we vanquish the Dark Lord once and for all. The sooner they can be mentally prepared for this eventuality, the better they will be.”

“But,” Balin hesitated as he gave Kíli and Fíli a sideways look, “in this particular case, special consideration should be taken to ensure that…” he stopped again. Dís, who just came out with a tray of tea and cakes, seemed to get his meaning.

“Fíli, Kíli, it’s been a long day. Why don’t you retire to your room and get some rest? Maybe a game of chess? You can take the tea and cake with you.”

Fíli almost rolled his eyes at his mother’s less than subtle way of getting them out. Kíli, on the other hand, obeyed without a word. Dís was, after all, the matron of the family so her words were to be followed.

“What do you think they’re going to talk about?” Kíli asked in a low voice once they were out of the sitting room. “What can be so secretive that we can’t hear it?”

“It must involve us somehow,” said Fíli in an equally low voice. “I wish they would stop doing that. We’re adults now. We deserve to know the truth, especially if it concerns us.”

Kíli wholeheartedly agreed. There was no way that either he or Fíli would openly defy Dís’s words, however. They both loved her too much to do that. It did not mean that they would simply follow the rules. “Extendable ears?”

Fíli sighed half in resignation half in amusement. “Why not? It’s not like I can stop you.”

“... prophecy. I know that you don’t set much store by it but you must at least consider the possibility that one of them could be the prophesied Chosen One. It would be utter madness to expose them to unnecessary dangers like this when we’ve got the fate of the whole Wizarding World hanging by a thread.” Balin sounded both tired and concerned.

“If Nori’s prophecy does point to Kíli or Fíli,” Thorin was still his collected self, “which I do not think so but let’s just go with it for argument’s sake, all the more reason to let them go. They will face real trial and tribulation soon. Any practice we could give them, in a more or less controlled environment, will only benefit them.”

“As much as I want my babies to stay safe forever,” said Dís, “I agree with my brother. The saviour of the Wizarding World and vanquisher of the Dark Lord can be no pampered child. They must go through enough to be able to stand up to the utmost evil yet still retain their courage and pure heart. The prophecy said that they were not ready now. Perhaps this is what we’re supposed to do, to put them to the test so they can be ready when the opportunity comes.”

Balin sighed. “I suppose you’re right. In the end, you’re their family so it’s down to you, especially regarding Fíli. We should, however, take the security seriously, especially with you,” he must mean Thorin for Kíli heard his Potions Master grunt, “currently indisposed.”

“I agree one hundred per cent,” said Dís. “That is why I am going with you tomorrow. Fíli is my son and Kíli is as good as one. I will not stay behind when my babies could be in danger.”

“Very well,” Thorin sounded relieved, “that combined with Dwalin and the Aurors should be enough. I doubt anyone’s going to try anything though. Even Dolohov can’t be that delusional.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Apparition test, as it turned out, went just as smoothly as Fíli had predicted. Kíli was relieved that Wilkie Twycross was not there to repeat his 3Ds. He was asked to Apparate to the front gate of Hogwarts. Since Kíli had already managed a similar trip to Hogsmeade, this was old hat for him now, which he did with ease.

“Well done, laddie!” Dwalin’s booming voice brought a bright smile to Kíli’s face.

“Professor Dwalin, what are you doing here?”

“Extra security, of course,” Dwalin beamed at him. “Besides, Thorin wants me to stop by at Erebor for the event later today,” he gave Kíli a meaningful look, “so I reckon this works out perfectly. Now, why don’t yeh Apparate back yerself? I’ll follow yeh in a minute.”

Once he was back in Diagon Alley with his Apparition licence in hand, Kíli went back to Erebor with Dwalin to collect Dís, Fíli, and Thorin. Even in his wheelchair, Thorin looked regal in his dark blue robes embroiled with strands made of precious metals. His hair was carefully braided. Unless Kíli was very much mistaken, Thorin was wearing a small crown.

“What on earth…”

Thorin gave him a dark look. “This is the crown of the Dwarf leadership, passed down from Durin the Deathless, the very first Dwarf king. They call us, the Durins and Oakenshields I mean, Durin’s folk for a reason. We all descended from him. His blood runs in our veins and we carry the heavy responsibility of living up to his name.”

Kíli stared. He knew that Thorin was the leader of the Dwarves but he never really realised that the Dwarves still had a monarchy. “So you’re, what, the king of the Dwarves?”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Dís said patiently. “It’s not exactly a kingship per se. Every time a leader passes away or decides to resign, a new leader is selected. Technically anyone can be selected but you very rarely find anyone that is not a Durin or Oakenshield chosen, probably because of the rumour regarding the power of the Arkenstone. So yes, when Thorin’s time is done, anyone can put themselves forward as the next leader. But chances are, it will be Fíli, or you,” she added kindly, “if you have enough experience by then.”

Kíli shook his head vehemently. “I don’t want to be the king, leader, whatever you want to call it. It’s Fíli’s! He’s been preparing for that since birth. I mean, honestly,” he laughed awkwardly, “look at me. Nobody in their right mind is going to pick me. And frankly, I’m better off not being one.”

Fíli grabbed Kíli’s hand and squeezed it. Beaming at his best friend and lover, Kíli walked out of Erebor with Fíli. He only realised the meaning of his actions when he caught the dark look on Thorin’s face, which made him grab Thorin’s hand instinctively, earning him a raised eyebrow from Fíli and a pointed cough from Thorin. He could hear Dwalin’s snigger. Fortunately, as they were getting ready to Apparate, nobody would comment on the matter. They had got more important issues at hand.

With the help of Dwalin, Kíli soon found himself inside a building he had never seen, which he could only assume was the Ministry of Magic. The Atrium was a spacious room with a peacock blue ceiling. Kíli was fascinated by the golden symbols moving over the ceiling, so much so that he stopped on his track to stare at them until his neck hurt. The floor, on the other hand, was made of polished dark wood. Halfway down the hall was a fountain. A group of golden statues, larger than life-size, stood in the middle of a circular pool. The tallest of them all was a noble-looking wizard of Men with his wand pointing straight to the front. Next to him, almost as tall, stood a beautiful witch of Elf, her face upturned, her delicate hands extended, palm up, and her eyes gazing into the sky. The Dwarf and the Hobbit before them were shorter and stockier. Both were looking into the ground, one with a precious stone in his hand, the other a magical plant, a depiction that could not be more accurate considering the stereotypes.

“Aragorn!” Kíli beamed at his former Quidditch Captain and ran towards the desk he was standing behind, only to be stopped by the witch sitting behind it.

“Hold your hippogriff, young man. Please hand me your wand.”

“What for?”

“Kíli,” Aragorn said with a resigned smile, “every visitor to the Ministry needs to have their wand weighed and inspected. Once that is done, I will escort you to the room next to the courtroom for the trial.”

“Oh,” Kíli felt his face heat up, “right. Sorry.” He handed the wand over to the witch, who took it and placed it on a brass scale. Kíli watched in amazement as a slip of parchment came out of the machine. The witch picked it up in an almost bored fashion, which Kíli supposed was not that surprising, considering that she probably did it all day every day.

“10 ½ inches long Vine with unicorn hair in reasonably good condition. Name?”

“Kíli Durin.”

“Very well.” A badge appeared out of thin air with Kíli’s name on it, which the witch handed over to Kíli. “Pin this to your clothes the whole time you’re in the Ministry and hand it back to me when you’re leaving. Next!”

Fíli, Thorin, and Dwalin all went ahead to hand over their wands while Dís waited patiently. Since she used to be a Ministry employee in the Department of Mysteries, there was no need for her to go through the same process.

The room that Aragorn took them to was much cosier than Kíli had imagined. Sitting high above the courtroom, the room had one side of the wall made entirely of glass, giving them a nice view down into the courtroom. Behind the glass were rows of plush armchairs and sofas. They even had tables with vases of beautifully-arranged flowers, making the room look more like a posh lounge than a Ministry office.

“Would you like some tea and refreshments?” Aragorn asked once they had all settled themselves comfortably in the armchairs closest to the glass wall, Thorin with the help of Dís and Dwalin.

“Isn’t this a bit much,” asked Kíli as he watched Aragorn set down tea and sandwiches on the tables, “for us to sit here, eat and drink, when others are down there, being tried? What will they think when they see us in this, I dunno, box, watching their trial like some kind of show?”

“The glass is charmed, isn’t it?” Fíli said. “So the defendants can’t see us while we can see them. Similarly, I doubt they can hear us.”

“Indeed,” said Aragorn with a smile, “maximum strength protection spells have been put on this room. It’s practically a fortress. No one can get in or out from the courtroom. You’ve got absolutely nothing to worry about here.”

Of course, Kíli thought. The Ministry would never allow the defendants to hear the conversation of the families of their victims or the officials overseeing the trials. It did comfort him to know that they were well protected here. Even though he did not have much confidence in the Ministry’s security based on their track record, he could not help but believe in Aragorn. His former Head Boy would never make empty promises.

The presence of Bellatrix Lestrange was felt even before her actual appearance. Kíli shuddered amidst pleasant conversations with Fíli and Aragorn. Turning his head towards the source of the chill, he found a couple of Dementors gliding into the courtroom, followed closely by Bellatrix Lestrange. The conversations died down immediately.

This was the first time that Kíli had looked at Bellatrix Lestrange close up after her escape from Azkaban. With the pictures that portrayed her striking, if a little insane, beauty still vivid in his mind, Kíli was almost astonished to find this new version of Bellatrix. Gone were her grace and beauty. Her hair, silky and shining black before, was now coarse, matted and grey. The maniacal gleam in her eyes was now so menacing that Kíli wondered how much sanity she still retained. Years in Azkaban had made her face gaunt, giving her an almost haunted look. The vestiges of great good looks might still be present if one squint hard enough. But Kíli doubted that it would remain so for long, since her future seemed to lie in Azkaban, very possibly forever.

“Bellatrix Black Lestrange,” the booming voice belonged to a wizard Kíli did not recognise, “you are brought hither in front of the Council of Magical Law so that we may pass judgment on you for the unlawful escape from Azkaban and the unlawful attack on the Hogwarts students, professors and the Aurors in Hogsmeade, resulting in severe injuries on many innocents caught in the attack. How do you plead?”

Even though her hands and feet were shackled, Bellatrix Lestrange still looked like a despotic queen looking down upon her slaves. “You think you can pass judgement on me, you insignificant man? We did all that so the Dark Lord, the only rightful ruler of the Wizarding World, shall rise again. He will rise again and when he does, he will reward us beyond any of his other supporters.”

The wizard’s face turned purple. Clearly, a propagandistic rant from Bellatrix was the last thing he wanted. He said quickly, “Very well. Since you’re openly admitting to the crimes and show no remorse for your heinous acts, I now ask the jury to raise their hands if they believe, as I do, that these crimes deserve a life sentence in Azkaban!”

In unison, the wizards and witches raised their hands. Some of them stood up to clap their hands while glaring at Bellatrix with badly concealed contempt. One even left his seat and ran towards Bellatrix, hurling abuse at the same time.

“You evil b**tch! You will get what you deserve!”

“Is that really advisable?” Fíli asked with a frown. “This is a courtroom, not a circus.”

Kíli had to agree. The jury member was showing no restraint. Worst of all, nobody in the courtroom looked inclined to intervene. Perhaps they all secretly hoped that he would give Bellatrix a good hex before she was taken back to Azkaban. Kíli watched, as if in slow motion, as the wizard lunged past the Dementors towards Bellatrix. The odd thing was that none of the Dementors tried to take him. The answer to that became painfully clear soon, as that was when all hells broke loose.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trial of Bellatrix Lestrange was a complete fiasco

The moment the wizard went past the Dementors, Kíli knew that something was not right. Even though his wand was out, it was pointed down rather than at Bellatrix. Furthermore, there was no tension in his body, which was typical of someone ready to strike a deadly blow. Instead, he simply bumped into Bellatrix, knocking her back a couple of steps. She retained her balance quickly enough and when he stepped away, Kíli gasped. The wand was now in Bellatrix’s hand, which was also free from the shackle.

“What the…”

Dwalin’s soft cry was soon lost in the din of the courtroom. Her hands and feet free and armed with a wand, Bellatrix was wreaking havoc, sending curses flying in all directions. Even from this distance, Kíli could feel the sheer dark power of her spells, as they went in massive waves, blasting rows of people and chairs off into the air. The crowd behind them screamed and scrambled to get out, both from the curses and the falling bodies.

Her accomplice next to her - Kíli still had trouble figuring out who he was for he looked nothing like any of the Death Eaters in the newspaper - was equally lethal. His spell casting, though less wild and widely destructive than Bellatrix, was focused and accurate. His first spell, a dark green jet of light, shot straight through the Shield conjured by the Aurors without losing any speed, past all the crowd and found the judge squarely in the chest, sending him falling back into a heap on his seat. Kíli watched in horror and awe as spell after spell shot out of his wand like jets of laser, finding and bringing the target down every single time. If Bellatrix was a mental mass murderer with an AK47, this wizard was a sniper with a Barrett M82. You would not want to cross either. In fact, his magic felt so familiar that Kíli finally recognised it. “Dolohov!”

“What?” Thorin had managed to get himself out of the wheelchair to a standing position. That was, however, the limit of his exertion, as he was panting already. Fíli was the only one next to him because Aragorn, Dís and Dwalin all had their wands pointing directly at the glass, trying their best to break it down so they could get to the pandemonium below.

“I Sensed his magic. It’s him! He must have…”

“Polyjuice potion,” said Fíli, his eyes wide. “How can they not check that?”

Nobody bothered to answer because at this moment, how it happened was hardly their priority. While Dís and Dwalin were still going at the glass, Aragorn had decided to try for Plan B and went for the door instead. It proved equally impenetrable, however. Whatever the Ministry’s fault at security, they had got this room right. It was virtually a fortress that locked people in as much as out.

“It’s not budging!” Dwalin cried in exasperation. Kíli could feel his frustration yet he could hardly blame him. It was carnage down there. 

Even though the Death Eaters were vastly outnumbered, they had two weapons in their hands: their lack of any compunction and the Dementors. The foul creatures had completely abandoned their posts and went for the crowd instead. The Aurors did their best but they were distracted and divided between the Death Eaters’ dark curses and the Dementors. The panic and utter chaos in the rooms did little to help, with people running all directions, trying to flee from the courtroom. Some even knocked the Aurors, who were still fighting, to the ground in their desperate attempts to get to safety. Yet all those attempts were in vain, for the courtroom was as well-fortified as Kíli’s room. No amount of pounding or spells could open the door.

The few Patronus animals were flickering in the air, unable to hold the rampaging Dementors. The screaming from the crowd was so deafening that Kíli could feel his heart in his throat, thumping hard. It was so gutting to watch from the sidelines and not be able to help.

When the last Patronus, a poor Camelot Macaw, dissipated into thin air like a puff of smoke, the real slaughter began. With no obstacles between them and a literal feast, the Dementors glided through the air, honing in on one unfortunate victim after another. Their helpless victims could do nothing except struggle weakly in the clutches of the Dementors, their faces upturned, their essence, every bit of happiness, sucked out of them by those foul creatures. When they had got nothing left, there was only one fate waiting for them, the worst of them all: the Dementor’s Kiss. After that, there was nothing but a husk of a wizard left.

Tears streaking down his face, Kíli did not realise that he had screamed his throat hoarse and pounded his fists bloody against the glass until Fíli, the only one who could spare him any attention, pulled him away from the scene.

“Don’t look, Kíli. Just don’t.” Fíli’s face was wet too but his hand on Kíli’s eyes were soft and warm.

Pushing Fíli’s hand away, Kíli cried desperately, “We’ve got to do something! Anything!”

Fíli’s voice broke. “I don’t know. Even uncle is going at it, but…”

So focused on the devastation caused by the Dementors, Kíli almost missed the critical event until Dís’s loud cry drew everyone’s attention. Her fingers pointing at the judge's seat, Dís said in a shaky voice, “What are they doing? Sweet Mahal! Are they getting away?”

They certainly were. Both Death Eaters were standing next to the seat of the collapsed judge. Bellatrix was still firing spells indiscriminately at the crowd. Dolohov, who finally looked himself now after the effects of the Polyjuice Potion had worn off, was rummaging inside the judge’s robes with one hand, his other hand clasped firmly around Bellatrix’s non-wand hand. Kíli wondered for a moment what he was looking for before the answer came to him, as he watched Dolohov and Bellatrix disappear into thin air. Dolohov had found a Portkey.

Stunned silence. Nobody said a word for a good minute because they could not believe their eyes. Two most wanted Death Eaters had just escaped from the courtroom under maximum security. How could this happen?

“Why?” Kíli was the one to break the silence.

“It’s a last resort escape measure,” said Aragorn in a trembling voice, his shoulders hunched, looking dejected, “in case something goes wrong. That way at least the judge can get away with a Portkey to get help. He was one of the few with a high enough clearance to get into the courtroom with one.”

Kíli opened his mouth, only to be interrupted by the noise of the courtroom door opening, at long last. Except it was too little too late. The group of Aurors and Ministry officials, led by none other than Saruman White, the Ministry for Magic himself, rushed in only to find dead, injured, or soulless wizards in the courtroom with the Dementors. The real perpetrators, however, were long gone.

“Merlin above!” Even The Minister for Magic was shocked by the aftermath, while the Aurors quickly whipped out their wands to cast the Patronus Charm. Once the Dementors had been contained, the Aurors set out cleaning the scene and collecting forensic evidence. It was a truly harrowing sight, as body after body was examined and levitated out of the courtroom, most of them covered in blood and gore. There were only a handful of survivors, all badly injured.

The sound of the door opening finally prized Kíli’s eyes off the distressing scene down below. At the door stood a wizard Kíli did not know, followed by Gandalf, clearly summoned by the Minister, his face grave and full of sorrow.

“Professor!” Kíli's knees buckled. Had it not been Fíli next to him, he would have collapsed to the floor. The never-wavering sight of Gandalf had finally convinced him that they were safe.

While Dís, Dwalin, and Aragorn rushed towards the Headmaster, Thorin moved his wheelchair towards Kíli. Without a word, he waved his wand. Kíli felt a slight sting and saw that his hands, bloody from the pounding before, were now healed. He did not even feel his injury until now. “Thanks.”

Thorin nodded and squeezed Kíli’s hand quickly before turning his attention to Gandalf. Gesturing to them to sit down, Gandalf too took a seat. “I am very sorry that you have to witness this. I understand that it has been a truly trying experience for you all. But I must ask you to remain strong for a little bit longer. We need to ask you some questions and take your statements, as you are the key witness to this tragedy and truly heinous crime.”

“Of course, Gandalf,” Thorin said in his usual collected voice. He seemed to be the one who had recovered the fastest. All the others were all in different states of shock. Dís’s hands could not stop trembling while Aragorn’s face was white as chalk. Fíli sat huddled next to Kíli, his face buried in Kíli’s neck. Kíli could feel the warmth of Fíli’s tears. Wrapping his arm around Fíli, he kept close to him, trying to draw strength from each other. Even Dwalin, the most hardened warrior and the calmest of them all, looked haunted. “We will assist in any way we can.”

“Thank you,” said Gandalf. He nodded to the wizard, who took out a large quill and a piece of parchment. So he was the notetaker. “Why don’t you start from the beginning? No need to spare any details.”

As Thorin recounted what they had witnessed, Kíli’s eyes wandered, mostly because he did not want to hear the tragic events again, and focused on the quill, which, to his astonishment, was writing on its own.

“Self-Writing quills,” Fíli said in a low whisper. Apparently, he was not the only one who could not bear reliving the story again. “The evil twins invented them because they could not be arsed to take notes in class themselves. One of their rare real contributions to society, if you can believe it. Record-takers use it all the time now. Probably one of their most lucrative products.”

Kíli managed a small smile. He was glad that Thorin’s tale was coming to an end. The stoic composure his professor exhibited had never commanded more respect from him. What kind of atrocities must he have witnessed to form this will of steel?

“So Dolohov was disguised as a jury member with the help of the Polyjuice Potion?” Gandalf turned to the record taker. “Please go and inform the Minister right away. We need to find out who he has impersonated and what has happened to his victim.”

“Why didn't they check him at the door before he was admitted into the courtroom?” Kíli asked angrily. “Surely there’s some way of knowing that he’s using Polyjuice Potion.”

It was Aragorn who answered. “There is. Everyone who’s going to enter the courtroom must go to a separate room for security inspection beforehand, where a team of Aurors are stationed. There’s even a Thief’s downfall there to wash away any enchantments. I can’t understand, for the life of me, how he could have gotten away with it.”

Gandalf sighed and called the record taker, who was already at the door, “In that case, please kindly ask the Minister to check the security room. I suspect you’ll find a team of unconscious Aurors inside. I just hope that none of them is seriously hurt.”

“What I don’t understand,” said Dwalin, “is why Dolohov would take such risks to rescue Bellatrix. I’ve never known those two to be particularly close and let’s face it, Death Eaters are not known for their camaraderie. Everyone’s disposable when it comes to their own skin. So why risk his life for her?”

It was a very valid question, Kíli thought. Even though Dolohov had tried to kill him and had to spend more than a year in Azkaban, he always seemed the sanest of the lot, not that the standard was very high. Unlike Bellatrix or her husband, he was driven by his personal motivations rather than blind zealous devotion to the Dark Lord. So why was he not capitalising on the opportunity to get away but instead risking everything to rescue Bellatrix? Unless. “Heavens above, you don’t think Dolohov could be in love with Bellatrix, do you?”

Unfortunately for Aragorn, who was drinking his cup of tea at the moment, this shock came at a most inopportune moment, for he choked and spluttered, “You’re joking, aren’t you?”

“I find that highly unlikely,” said Dís, who fought hard to keep her tone neutral, “I know Dolohov from our days in Hogwarts. He’s hardly the romantic type. Remember him?” She turned to look at Dwalin and Thorin. “He’s several years ahead of us.”

Dwalin nodded. “Bastardly clever little bugger, Dolohov. Very handy with his wand but not so much with his tongue. He was quite popular with the girls, actually, being the broody Russian and all that. But he never cared for any one of them. Heart of a stone, that one.”

“I agree.” Thorin’s confirmation was all they needed. “I knew him a little bit better because we were in Slytherin together. Unlike some Purebloods, Dolohov was never driven by ideology. His only objective is power. Always has been and I believe always will be. There must be something in this rescue that could play to his advantage. Otherwise, he would have left Bellatrix to rot.”

Kíli was not exactly surprised by this. “Maybe he thinks Bellatrix can help him escape. Maybe it’s easier than managing it on his own.”

“Trust me,” said Dwalin, “if yeh want to stay low, yeh’d have a better chance with an Erumpent than Bellatrix Lestrange. She’s as unstable as a Blast-Ended Skrewts and just as destructive. Nah, Dolohov must be planning something else, probably something big.”

Gandalf nodded. “I shall inform the Minister. He will need to keep an eye out. We now have two highly dangerous Death Eaters on the loose.” He sighed. “I better go and check on the survivors. The victims’ families need to be informed too.”

Once Gandalf and the wizard record taker had left, Fíli turned to his uncle. “Do you think the Minister will listen to Professor Gandalf?”

Thorin shook his head. “I don’t know but I doubt it. This Ministry fiasco will put the Minister in a difficult position. The Minister, despite his many strengths, is a very proud man. Soliciting Gandalf’s help would be the last thing he wants to do.” He turned to Dwalin. “You know what this means. We must…”

“Increase our security? Aye. Come on, lads, let’s get yeh home. Yeh’ve had enough for one day.”

Kíli was more than eager to comply. All he wanted to do was to go home and forget about the whole day. He and Fíli, who pushed Thorin’s wheelchair with his wand, followed Aragorn and Dís, while Dwalin brought up the rear. Just as they were going down the stairs, a lone figure rushed towards them so fast that he was on a collision course. Dís cried while Fíli’s wand shook, sending Thorin’s wheelchair, which was levitated in the air minutes ago, to drop to the ground.

“Accio wheelchair!” Kíli shouted the first spell that came to his mind and miraculously, it worked. Not only did it lift the wheelchair back in the air, but the spell also brought it back, narrowly avoiding a crash into…

“Lindir!” Aragorn’s gobsmacked look was mirrored on everyone’s face. Kíli had never seen Lindir lose control like this. His eyes bloodshot, his face so pale that all blood must have drained from it, his silky brown hair flying behind him, the front of his robes stained with coffee, Lindir looked as if he had rushed off from a desk to run here. “What in the name of…”

“Get the f**k out of my way!” Lindir cried so savagely that Aragorn jumped back immediately.

“What on earth is going on?” Dís asked Cho, who had just appeared in the hallway. Clearly, she had followed Lindir here, except her running speed was not as great. “Cho, why is Lindir…”

“His, his, his,” Cho bent down with her hands on her knees and panted, trying desperately to catch her breath. Dís came to her side immediately and stroked her soothingly on the back. Once Cho had regained her composure, she sighed, as she finally gave up on catching up with Lindir. “It’s his father, Mister Rivendell.”

“Oh, Mahal,” Dís clasped her hand to her mouth, “is he?”

Cho nodded, her eyes wet as tears now streaked down her pretty face. “He was one of the jury members.”

The implication of that statement was only too clear. Kíli closed his eyes. Did he just witness one of his friend’s father get killed or worse, kissed by a Dementor?

“We were having lunch and when Lindir heard the news, he just…” Cho shivered. “I’ve never seen him like this before. But can you blame him? His own father was, was,” she wiped her face furiously, “brutally murdered as he tried to protect the others.”

“I’m so sorry, my love.” Dís wrapped her arms around Cho to comfort the poor girl. “If there’s anything we can do for you or Lindir, don’t hesitate to ask.”

The trip home could not be more depressing. Try as he might, Kíli could not get the images of the bodies on the courtroom floor or Lindir’s despaired face out of his mind. The screaming still echoed in his ears. He could still feel the chills when he walked past the fighting Dementors. If there was one thing he was certain, it was that he would not be able to forget this for a long time. Partially to take his mind off things, he turned to Fíli and asked, “I didn’t know that Lindir is working in the Ministry now. Cho, too, for that matter.”

“Mister Rivendell is working in the Department of Magical Games and Sports,” said Thorin, to Kíli’s surprise. He never expected Thorin to care about any Elves to know what they were up to. Things had truly changed. “Miss Chang was accepted into the Department of International Magical Cooperation, a most suitable choice given her background and her knowledge in the Chinese languages and magical history. Elrond told me when he came to visit me while I was recuperating in Hogwarts. He sounded quite proud.” He said with a small smile. “I think he feels like Mister Rivendell’s surrogate father, after being his Head of House for 7 years. Mister Rivendell has a strange way of growing on you.”

Kíli could not help but smile. Lindir certainly had that quality about him. 

“What’s Lindir going to do now?” Fíli asked.

“What do you mean?” Kíli did not understand. He realised that it was a traumatic event, but at least Lindir was an adult with a good job. His life hopefully would not be ruined, especially not with Cho faithfully by his side.

“His father was the Head of Rivendell house. They might not be the biggest or the richest one but they’ve still got some family business. Is Lindir going to quit his job to take over the family business now?”

Kíli could see Fíli’s point, except… “Why can’t Mrs Rivendell take over the family business? Surely she’s had way more experience than Lindir.”

“I… Well…” Fíli stuttered. “I suppose…”

Dís patted Kíli fondly on the back and said, “Because most of the Pureblood families are not run by ladies. The head of a Pureblood house is always a male, even if only nominally. Things are changing, but very slowly. You’ll find more misogynistic pigs than open-minded people like you, Kíli.”

“I’m sure Lindir’s one of the progressive few,” said Dwalin with a ghost of a smile. “He'll let his mother run things even if just because he can’t be bothered.”

Kíli smiled too. That was the Lindir he remembered. He just hoped that this Lindir would still be there after he buried his father.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Kíli! Fíli! Time to go. You’re going to be late for the train.” Dís’s voice brought Kíli scrambling out of his room, his trunk barely closed. He had never had trouble waking up on the 1st of September before. Then again, he had not had to deal with nightmares like the ones he had to endure the past several nights for quite a while.

It always began in the same way, the night of his parents’ murder. Kíli went through the same motion as he did in all his previous nightmares, except this time, he could see Azog’s ugly face clearly, even though all the other Death Eaters remained blurred. He wondered if Dolohov or Bellatrix was there that night too. That was all he could do though, watch and wonder. He could not move or draw his wand. His hands were stuck to his side as if he were wrapped up like a mummy. Then the scene changed. Instead of his old home, he was inside the courtroom, once again a helpless witness. Spells were flying in all directions, Dementors snatching people left and right, everyone trying to scramble out of the room, their screams masking Kíli’s own. Every time he woke up, usually after much shaking from Fíli, who had taken to sleeping in Kíli’s bed every single night, he would find his throat hoarse from his screams, his shirts drenched in cold sweats. If he did manage to go back to sleep, a difficult feat that could only be achieved through Fíli’s soft murmuring and reassuring strokes, the nightmares and the whole cycle would start all over again. As a result, it was a miracle if he would manage to get out of bed before 11 am these days.

“I’m ready, mum.” Fíli appeared in the dining room with his trunk all packed up. Just like Kíli, his peaceful slumbers were no more, not after the slaughter at the courtroom. Yet in typical Fíli manner, he was bearing it with a will of steel, waking up during his usual hours and conducting his study and other business as usual. Kíli wished that he could cope like Fíli.

“Right,” Dís said distractedly as she rushed over to Thorin’s side, who had just appeared in his wheelchair. “I will Apparate your uncle to the station first. Dwalin will be waiting there. Then I’ll come back for you two.”

“We can follow you, mum,” said Fíli. “We’ve both got our Apparition license now. We’re running late as it is.”

Dís sighed and looked at Thorin, who, after some consideration, nodded.

By the time they got to Platform 9 ¾, it was 10:58 already. While Dwalin was busy helping Thorin onto the train, Dís turned to Fíli and Kíli. “Right, my dear. I know that I seem to say this every year but I do mean it. Please be careful. We don’t know what Dolohov or Bellatrix is up to. But there’s a good chance that they’ll target Hogwarts, just like Azog did. You…” her usually strong voice broke, “you are the only ones I’ve got. Please…”

“We will, mum,” Fíli wrapped his arms around Dís. Kíli did the same once Fíli was done. He was now half a head taller than Dís, which felt strange since he could still remember being engulfed in Dís’s embrace when he first came to the Wizarding world. How time has changed things. Now it was his turn to protect her at all costs. “We will be careful, Mrs Arken. I promise.”

After two slightly wet kisses on their cheeks, Dís waved them goodbye while they boarded the train for their last year at Hogwarts, the end of a journey. It was hard not to feel sentimental when Kíli watched Dís disappear from view, her hand still waving at them.

“Kíli! Fíli!” Gimli's loud cry made both Fíli and Kíli stop in front of a compartment. Inside sat Gimli, Ori, and of course, Legolas. “Come on in, we saved you both seats.”

It was not exactly comfortable with the five of them in a compartment but strangely Kíli appreciated the snug fit. It was almost calming to be wedged between Ori and Fíli, their body heat warming him, making him feel less alone. The moment they sat down, Gimli started. “Bloody hell! Tell us everything! The Daily Prophet’s article says nothing.”

“Gimli!” Ori both sounded and looked scandalised. “There’s no need to bring up such a distasteful topic. I’m sure neither Kíli nor Fíli wants to relive it!”

Exchanging a quick look with Kíli, Fíli said, “It’s okay, Ori. I won’t go into details but I believe everyone needs to know the truth.” He then went ahead and told them, much to Kíli’s relief, a simplified version of that day’s event.

“So Antonin Dolohov sneaked into the Ministry to rescue Bellatrix Lestrange?” Gimli shook his head in disbelief. “That's mental! Are you sure he’s not banging her?”

Kíli grimaced. Even though he had the same idea, hearing Gimli say it out loud in such a way made it sound much more ridiculous. “I used to think so, Gim, but not anymore. They’re Death Eaters. They don’t love!”

Gimli did not look convinced. Neither did Ori. “How do you know that? I’m sure Death Eaters can love too.”

“But they’re cold-blooded killers! They can't love!”

“They might show a lack of empathy towards people they do not know or do not deem fit to live in their society,” said Legolas, surprising everyone. It was rare to hear him express his opinion in their company. Gimli, on the other hand, sat up a bit straighter, his eyes bright. He was clearly used to this. “Most human emotions exist in a kind of continuum. It’s never black or white. Some have a wide range for their empathetic feelings while others, like the Death Eaters, have a very limited range. It does not mean that all of them are incapable of love.”

The silence that followed was only broken by Gimli. “Wow, you’re so sexy when you’re all intellectual.”

Ori groaned while Fíli and Kíli laughed, for perhaps the first time since the courtroom massacre, as the Daily Prophet had dabbed it. It’s nice to be back amongst friends, Kíli thought. He was still curious about Legolas’s unknown depth about human psychology. He did not know many wizards who specialised in that area. “How did you know so much about how the mind works?”

“I did some light reading on psychology, for my Muggle Studies class,” said Legolas with a smile. “Even though they know no magic, Muggles are much more advanced than we are in many other areas.”

Kíli beamed. If someone like Legolas, who was brought up by a most prejudiced father, could change their mind about Muggles, there was hope for the Wizarding World yet.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Given what had happened, the Start-of-Term feast was understandably subdued. Amongst the students, Kíli could see many anguished and downtrodden faces. He thought he understood why, even though he wished that he did not. In a relatively small community like the Wizarding World, Kíli could only imagine how many of those killed or kissed in the courtroom was related to the Hogwarts students. He was almost grateful that the Daily Prophet was covering up the whole affair. The idea that the family of the victims would learn of their involvement, or the lack thereof, in their loved one's death, was too much for Kíli to bear.

The Staff table did not present a more reassuring view. Thorin was still sitting in a wheelchair, though his back was straight and his face proud as if he were sitting on a throne with a crown. Lady Galadriel and Elrond were deep in conversation, both frowning. When Gandalf stood up, the whole Great Hall fell silent.

“I understand that there have been many discussions about the tragic event that happened several days ago in the Ministry of Magic,” said Gandalf in a grave tone. “While the Daily Prophet and the Ministry might wish to keep the information to themselves, I believe in open communication. Many of you have lost loved ones. Anything other than the truth would have been an insult to their memories. Furthermore, I must urge you to exercise extreme caution because the perpetrators of the atrocity, Bellatrix Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov, are still at large. While we can and should put our faith in the authority, they have not caught the criminals yet. As a result, we must be constantly vigilant. I must, therefore, announce the continued suspension of the Hogsmeade visits until both perpetrators are apprehended, which I am sure you can understand. Even though there will be no Aurors inside the castle this year, we will continue our security measures with the help of the staff. You can rest assured that your safety will not be compromised. We promise you that we are doing everything we can to ensure the safety and wellbeing of the students, both physically and mentally. If any one of you has any doubts or concerns, our doors are always open.”

“That’s cheerful.” Gimli made a face. “I wonder how Professor Thorin’s going to manage all his patrolling duties.”

It was a valid question that had troubled Kíli too. Seeing Thorin’s proud figure cooped up in a wheelchair broke his heart. There was nothing he would not give up to speed up Thorin’s recovery, to make him better. “I don’t know. Maybe with Mister Oín’s help, he’ll recover quickly enough that it won’t be a problem.”

“I hope so,” Gimli sighed in a most uncharacteristic manner. “Mahal knows we can’t afford to lose anyone else. We need all the help we can get. Besides,” this time he did manage a grin, “I can’t take on much more patrol duties than it is.”


End file.
